


We're Artists After All

by DetectiveJoan



Series: The Balance of Joy [2]
Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Femslash February 2018, I'm doubling down on the 'Characters Who Deserve Good Things' tag, Multi, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sexual Content, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveJoan/pseuds/DetectiveJoan
Summary: Sam starts keeping a mental list of the relationship-y things that she knows Chloe likes: sleeping with them (in the literal sense), holding hands, sending group texts that are full to bursting with heart emojis.But when it comes to sex? She has no idea.





	We're Artists After All

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that universal dating-while-ace experience of seducing your partner(s) without trying to, and then no one having any clue what to do about it.
> 
> Title from "[i know this:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebXne0Pl3H8)" by Rachel Kann.

Sam had understood asexuality, objectively. She’d been given the cliff notes introduction by Chloe, and then she’d gone on to do her own research — and she literally researched things professionally, so when she decided she was going to figure something out? She didn’t half-ass it. There was a time when she could have written an essay on the theoretical difference between romantic and sexual attraction in her sleep.

But now that she and Mark are dating Chloe, all those cut and dried definitions suddenly seem like they’ve been put in a blender. Figuring out the boundary lines feels like trying to pluck the different pieces of romance and sexuality out of a relationship smoothie.

“Kind of a messy metaphor,” Chloe says when Sam admits it.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Like, I don’t know how to tell exactly when touching becomes _touching._ I don’t know what sort of things I can do with Mark that I can’t do with you.”

“Well I don’t exactly know either!” Chloe says, sounding a little defensive. “It’s not like I have a comprehensive list I can give you. I’ll just tell you if you get close to crossing a line.”

Sam bites her lip. “I’d rather have a comprehensive list.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, but fondly. “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” she says.

It isn’t the most helpful conversation. Sam resolves to just stay as far as she can from any possible line.

And she starts keeping a mental list of the relationship-y things that she knows Chloe likes: sleeping with them (in the literal sense), holding hands, sending group texts that are full to bursting with heart emojis.

And when it comes to sex?

One evening, Sam comes home from running errands to find Mark and Chloe standing in her kitchen, in the middle of a water fight. Mark’s brandishing the pull-out sink faucet gleefully, and Chloe’s holding up a hand towel like the world’s most ineffective shield. It’s soaked straight through, as is the entire front of her shirt.

Sam freezes in the doorway, staring like an idiot. The only thought her brain can pull together is _oh look. boobs._

Mark takes one look at her, apparently reads the thought loud and clear, and nearly doubles over in a fit of laughter.

“Wow, hey, Sam,” Chloe says, and she's smirking like she's in on Mark's joke. “Maybe try and keep those kinda thoughts on you boyfriend?”

“Uh huh,” Sam says in a strangled tone. She clears her throat and wants to try again, but then Chloe strips off her shirt in a fluid motion, and Sam’s brain is suddenly very occupied by things other than verbal communication.

Like how much she wants to put her hands all over Chloe.

“I’m your boyfriend, too,” Mark reminds Chloe. She throws the towel at him, and it smacks across his chest with a wet _splat_.

“I’m gonna go steal a dry shirt from your closet, Sam,” Chloe says; she drops a kiss on Sam’s cheek on her way past her.

Mark points the faucet at Sam and pulls the trigger just long enough for a splash of water to hit her in the face.

She has about a dozen questions. The one she manages to put into words is, “What the hell, Mark?”

“You looked like you needed a cold shower,” he says, mock innocently.

So, yeah, when it comes to establishing Chloe’s baseline for sex, Sam uses “doesn’t appreciate being ogled while wearing a see-through t-shirt” to guess that everything else is a very hard no.

She and Mark don’t talk about it, because she’s bad at talking about sex, and he’s bad at talking about — well, not _everything_ anymore, but still a lot of things. Still, they mutually come to the conclusion that they should keep the sexier stuff to a minimum when Chloe’s around.

Late one afternoon a few weeks later, when they know Chloe’s going to be on campus for at least another hour, Sam lets Mark push her onto the edge of the couch cushions and then settle on his knees between her legs. He’s there for all of five minutes, with her dress pushed up and his tongue curling inside her slowly, before he suddenly pulls back and hides his face against her knee.

“Shit,” he breathes, “Chloe.”

And before Sam can even start to process what he’s saying, the front door opens behind her and Chloe walks in.

Shit.

Sam hurriedly tugs her skirt back down to cover herself, but Mark doesn’t move except to run a hand over his mouth.

“Hey, Chloe,” Sam says, a bit too loudly. “What are you doing here?”

“Some kid pulled a fire alarm, so class was canceled,” Chloe says as she drops her messenger bag on the ground and kicks off her shoes.

She leans over the back of the couch, ever-present headphones hanging around her neck. Sam is expecting Chloe to give her a quick kiss hello, but instead Chloe curls a hand around Sam’s neck and kisses her deeply, slipping her tongue into Sam's mouth and then biting softly at her bottom lip.

“You know if you want Mark to finger you, you have to ask, right?” Chloe says when she pulls away, casual as anything. “Or, I guess you needed to ask before I got here.”

Sam’s heart skips at least three beats, and she can’t formulate any kind of answer, but Chloe isn’t waiting for one. She turns her attention to where Mark is still kneeling on the floor.

“Mark,” she says, and it’s both greeting and reprimand.

“I didn’t know,” he shrugs.

“Excuses,” she tuts. “Now you do know, so you can get back to it. Ooh, except now that I’m here you’re a bit overwhelmed by how loudly Sam is thinking and — yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how loudly most people think about sex, not that I have a _ton_ of experience, of course — and you’re worried that the mind-reading thing might be weird for Sam, but she’s — you’re okay with it, right? Yeah, she’s fine. But… concerned? Sam, what — oh, no, don’t even think of me. You won’t even notice I’m here. Unless you want to, I guess. Anyway, I’m gonna get a drink. Either of you want something? No? Okay.”

“Jesus,” Sam says softly as Chloe disappears into the kitchen.

Mark surges up to suck kisses into her neck. He reaches a hand down between them and rubs his thumb against her over her dress until she’s nearly gasping.

“God, Sam, you are so loud right now, it’s like you’re screaming directly into my brain,” he mutters between kisses, then laughs softly at himself. “It doesn’t sound hot when I say it like that, but trust me.”

She half-heartedly pushes at his shoulder. “Mark, knock it off. Chloe—”

“Chloe is in the next room," he says lightly, "which means I can hear you thinking about how hot it was when she spoke to you like that.” Mark’s smirking when he leans back.

Sam takes a shaky breath. It’s not like she can deny it. “You could tell if we were making Chloe uncomfortable, though, right?”

“She’s fine,” he reassures her, and moves his hand back under her dress. She can’t stop her hips from squirming up against him when he’s finally touching her. “Let’s focus less on her, and more on how wet you are over having her in your head. Having her know exactly what you want, and what she’s doing to you. You’re kinky for telepathic sex.”

“It doesn’t sound hot when you say it like that,” she echoes, but she knows her face is flushed.

Mark slowly presses a finger into her and she gasps sharply.

“Please tell me you’re not fetishizing my ability,” Chloe says from somewhere behind Sam.

“We definitely are,” Mark says. “But only because Sam here finds it so damn appealing.”

“Sorry,” Sam offers meekly, but Chloe echoes Mark’s laugh.

“Well, in that case I’ll allow it,” she says, leaning over the back of the couch again, now holding a glass of wine, “but only if you can use it to make Sam make that noise again.”

Mark turns to Chloe, apparently paying little attention to how Sam is reacting to his continued touch. “Do I get a hello kiss?”

He leans towards her, but she puts a finger over his mouth like she’s shushing him instead.

“I know where that mouth has been, mister,” Chloe says.

“Where yours is going to be soon?” he guesses.

“Very smooth,” she says, sounding completely unfazed, “but I think I’m gonna sit this one out and let you two finish what you started. Speaking of which, you should definitely get back to eating her out — she’s practically begging for it.”

“I haven’t said anything,” Sam protests.

Mark curls his finger and grinds the heel of his hand against her clit. “Oh, fuck,” she breathes, clutching his arm.

Chloe makes a noise of approval. “That’s the sound I was talking about.”

She carefully climbs over the back of the couch and sits down sideways, back against the armrest and crossed legs facing them, and she fixes her gaze on Sam. With a tone of innocence that belies the thoughts they can all hear going through Sam’s head, she says “You guys don't mind if I watch, right?”


End file.
